Reality is Overrated
by Caitlin
Summary: Rainstorm + Buffy + Spike + Haunted house = One hell of a freaky night. First person narrative.
1. Chapter 1

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**Reality is Overrated.**

Author : Caitlin 

Rating : NC-17 in later parts 

Characters : Buffy/Spike 

Setting : Post-Post-The Gift. Buffy's back, all is right in the world, etc. 

Feedback : To Caitlin@teenagewildlife.com if you like it. Trying something new after not writing it ages. So feedback would be appreciated Thanks :) 

Notes : Haven't posted fic here for ages. I actually used to have an account and posted stuff before but then deleted it all. I had a reason at the time, it was very valid, I think I was planning on doing a site or something (never actually happened, I discovered you actually have to work at that kind of thing) but anyway the point ? I haven't posted fic in a while, so be gentle, and with that ominous note, on to the story. 

* * * * * 

No rainstorm in Sunnydale is ever like the last one. 

Sometimes the clouds are as dark as steel wool. At others the haziness resembles dirty dishwater. And of course when the touch of the powers of be is fleeting, which happens a lot on a Hellmouth, trust me, the sun will be as bright as a summer afternoon with the rain just coming down in bucketfuls. So I wait till night, usually after patrol, to run. 

Down here the evening rain sneaks up on you with no warning. The breeze had been stiff against my back making this run just bearable. I could feel the tension building in the air and with the wind pushing at me, I felt as if I could run forever. The sea stretched itself by my side like ribbon tossed carelessly away by a child, forgotten in the summer heat. 

It was on just such a night that I felt the first fat rain drops. 

"Oh, Hell." I muttered to myself. Down here there's no place to find shelter. On one side you have the muddy sea with some scraggly rocks emerging from the depths. In the distance there's the thick forest. So I picked up the pace from a casual jog to running at full steam. I just hoped Dawn had remembered her key to let herself in when she got dropped off from her friends, there was no way I was going to be home before eleven. Oh great and I wanted an early night as well, Giles was going to be so pissed if I was sleepy through our training sessions tomorrow for the third time this week. 

Ahead of me, the huge glossy green leaves of the woodland trees began to shake and bend in the stiff rain sweetened gusts proceeding the storm. I turned and looked over my shoulder and saw black clouds racing behind me. Damn. Nowhere to take cover. I kept running. The raindrops became heavier and cold. As the bend in the bay of sand straightened out I saw a runner ahead of me almost off the beach and like me was heading for the woods . I watched the figure dash across the street which separated both and head for the front porch of what looked to be a deserted old house, buried in the trees. Funny, I've never run down here this way, I realised. I don't think many people do. Too isolated and isolation's not good in a place like Sunnydale. But surely if one person could stand on the porch for shelter, so could two. 

The rain turned rapidly into a miniature monsoon and I felt my soaking clothes next to my skin as I shot across the street. The nylon shorts would dry quickly but my drenched white T-shirt was all too revealing. 

As I got under the porch I looked down at my chest, trying to pull away the sticky wet fabric. I looked up at the other runner and felt my eyes caught and held. 

Oh great. 

"Spike," 

"Very observant of you Slayer, unless there's someone going around with my face I'd think so," 

Suddenly I realised how dumb I'd sounded, but instead of looking apologetic I scowled and edged as far across the otherside of the porch as I could, feeling the wooden floorboards creak under my feet and feeling the rain squish in my sneakers and between my toes. 

It was then that I realised that he wasn't clad in black jeans and duster. But in sneakers just like me; scuffed and black with dark sweat pants and a white wife beater. I watched the rain drops stream down his large arms and long legs, before I realized a little belatedly that I had been staring at him. 

"Wanna take a picture pet? It'll last longer," 

"You," I said, frowning, not sure whether to laugh or what, "You with the normal clothes," 

"And you're saying my other clothes aren't normal?" 

I looked at him, "Well yeah," 

He gave a snort, "Well, can't exactly go running in boots now can I? And as long as no one sees me I'm pretty safe," 

"No, I guess not," 

With that he fumbled around in one pocket for something and brought out a pack of sodden Marlboros, "Blast," He frowned angrily, "Bleeding rain," 

"Tell me about it," I agreed, leaning backwards, feeling the wall bend against my weight. 

"How long you reckon this'll go on for?" 

I gave a shrug, "You got me," 

"Could make a run for it," He suggested, raising his eyebrows and mirrored my stance; leaning back against his side with one wet sneaker pressed up against the peeling wood. 

"It's alright for you," I said, "You don't get cold. I on the other hand would be a walking popsicle," 

"I do get cold," He replied indignantly, tossing the wet pack of Marlboros to the ground after deciding they were gonners, "Just not the nasty pneumonia that follows," 

"My point exactly, and I can't afford to get ill right now," 

"What? A chance to have people waiting on you hand and foot, feeding you soup whilst you sit tucked up warm in bed and watch the telly. Nah, that would be a pisser wouldn't it luv?" He replied with a mocking glint in his ice blue eyes. 

"You've forgotten what it's like to be sick haven't you? And anyway," I said, "It's not like Dawn can really play nursemaid, have you ever tasted her cooking? 

I saw him smirk, "I'm always open to playing nursemaid pet," He leered over at me, "As long as the favour's returned," 

Ugh, it's easy to forget what a cocky lecherous pervert Spike can be when he's just standing there in running gear with his bleached white hair sticking up at funny angles and drops of rain falling off his nose. 

"In your dreams buddy," I said, but couldn't help but let a small smile emerge anyway. 

"Everynight," He drawled, "Everynight," 

The smile dropped slightly from my face and I turned away to stare out at the rain again. He's probably not lying when he says that and for some reason it makes me feel funny and makes my throat burn. He never says anything, hasn't said anything since I came back but I know that he feels the same way as he did before. And for some reason that's okay, it's normality now and ever since I came back normality (or at least as normal as it's going to be for me) is all I want. 

Sometimes I'll catch him just staring at me, when I used to do that he'd turn away, act as if he was just glancing or something. Now he meets my gaze and we get engaged in a staring contest: who can hold out the longest, who gets that nervous feeling first when your lips suddenly become parched and you can't stop fiddling with your hands or tapping your foot. I've started counting who wins those battles. So far it's Spike - 23. Me - 5. But I'm getting better. Sort of. 

This is one of these times. I don't know how I can feel him. It must be one of those instincts left over from when we used to fight, when I had to know where he was or where he was going to be before he did to get my punch in first, maybe that's it. But the feeling's different now, it's not my Slayer sense that kicks in it's something different to that. Something that tingles instead of stings. 

I meet his eyes without a hesitation and I think I can see a smile emerge on his lips. Maybe I should start timing these contests now instead of just making a count of who wins. Okay here goes. 

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 

Do vampires have to blink? I suddenly wonder, because if they don't that's so unfair and I should at least get some penalty points for that. All this blinking makes me lose my concentration and want to turn my head away even more. Stupid rain. 

11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 

He must practice this. In front of the mirror or - no wait: vampire (shoot almost forgot, so easy to forget) so strike that. Oh shit, what if he's still got that mannequin thing and practices with that? Hopefully he thinks my shuddering is just because of the icy rain. Stupid icy rain which doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. Hey hang on, why am I shuddering? It was him who built the darn thing, he should be embarrassed and doing the cringing and shuddering not me. 

21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 

Ha! I'm so going to win this. A drop of rain's just slid from his scalp and is currently beginning it's descent down his eyebrows to fall onto his dark lashes. How come I've never noticed that before? How dark his eyelashes are, so that when he blinks it feels like I can feel them, silvery and whispery on my own cheek. 

//Thud// 

Shit, what was that? 

Both of us look to inside the old abandoned house. Darn, now what does that count as, a draw? So what's that now? 

"What the bloody hell was that?" Exclaims Spike, looking inside the house. 

Oh yeah, alarming thuddy noise. Sacred Slayer duty, yadda, yadda, but dammit what was it? Spike - 24. Me - 6, no surely I won more times then that -- oh damn. 

I turned to look down the long veranda. The paint on the columns and door frame was cracked and peeling away exposing older layers and some bare wood. The wooden porch floor was weathered and uneven and creaked as I shifted my weight. However in the midst of such neglect I noticed sparkling leaded glass windows made with pieces of scarlet and azure glass arching over the door lintel. I saw the heavy ornate brass door knocker that was suggestive of a more pretentious era. A lit gas lamp swung slowly from the porch ceiling, its flame flickering precariously in the storm winds. Spike's head was turned and his hands cupped over his eyes to avoid the glare from the stark skies as he tried to make out what was behind the dark windows. I stood behind him. 

"Probably vamps holed up in there, perfect spot for the evil dead to raise a family," 

Spike shook his head, "Can't believe anybody would wanna live in this dump," He said, moving away from the window and casting a look to where a spider was weaving a web between one mildewed crack to a battered and peeling wooden beam. 

"From the guy who lives in a crypt, that's grand," I scoffed. 

"Yeah but a crypt with electricity luv," 

"Sorry," I said rolling my eyes, "My bad," 

Spike nodded, "So," He said cocking his head to the door, "Wanna go take 'em out?" 

I looked around, the rain was still pelting down, the trees swaying in dark shapes around us, only just withstanding the winds. 

"Not like there's much else to do," I sighed. 

With a smirk at the prospect of violence Spike turned and raised a foot and kicked the door down, wood splintering on impact and paint falling in flakes like snow in winter to the floor. The door creaked for a few seconds then toppled backwards landing with a crash and a shower of wood and paint on the inside. 

"Well done stealth boy," I said wryly, stepping over the door, "Could you have possibly done that any louder?" 

"Well what do you suggest Slayer?" He replied following me. 

"We could have just tried the door knob," 

"Oh yeah, and they're just gonna leave the door unlocked ready to get slayed in their sleep aren't they? Have a little respect for my kind Slayer," 

"Well I guess we'll never know, seeing as you well and truly slayed the door," 

He rolled his eyes, "Look just quit your whining and let's find these plonkers already," 

Just then we heard more noise. Crashing and tumbling; footsteps, fumbling, like someone moving about. Someone with no co-ordination or who was incredibly drunk. Hmmm, I could go a drink right now, just something to warm me up. I wonder if Spike still has that bourbon. 

I tried to look around, find a light source or something but there was nothing, just a mass of different shadows and shapes. The only thing in relief was the wooden panels around the now empty door frame. Meanwhile the noises kept on coming from upstairs. 

A small pin prick of light appeared by my side. Spike's lighter. 

"Great idea," I remarked, "Open flame in a whole wooden house," 

"Unless you've got a flashlight hidden down those shorts luv I'd shut up," 

I pulled a face, "Aren't vampires meant to be able to have good night vision?" 

"Yeah, but you're not a vampire pet," 

I looked at Spike waving that stupid lighter about the place, exposing a narrow hallway with doors down either side and watched him walk forward and find a staircase at the foot of the hall before shaking off the strangeness of his comment and the fact he showed no embarrassment at all and followed him. 

At the foot of the stairs the sounds of movement got louder. They must be upstairs. 

"I reckon about four," He said. 

"Five," I replied almost reflexively. 

"Care to put a wager on that luv?" 

"And what are you gonna pay me with when I win Spike? Cigarette butts?" 

"Afraid you might lose?" He jeered. God he always knows how to get me to rise to the bait. 

"Tenner that there's four then," He said at my pout. I nodded reluctantly before beginning my ascent. 

My hand tested the banister, seeing if it would hold my weight. The first stair felt pretty sturdy and the wood was pretty firm. I'd be alright. Hoping to hell I wasn't about to fall through a weak stair I forced myself not to think about it and just walked, feeling Spike close behind me. The wooden banister was rough like sandpaper under my hand. Damn, all that money on Aloe Vera hand moisturiser for nothing. I heard Spike curse as he caught his palm on something sharp on the edge, probably a splintered and protruding piece of wood. Better watch Spike with all these makeshift stakes, I thought. 

"What you laughing at?" His deep British accent rolled through the thick air like heavy sweet sorghum syrup. I shook my head, realising I'd been sniggering about the scenario of mighty William the Bloody accidentally staking himself on a banister. 

"Nothing," I said, my voice a squeak and I heard him huff, non-believing. 

The hallway stretched in both directions at the top of the stairs. I paused and Spike immediately stopped behind me, his head over my shoulder as we both listened. I held up a finger anyway to be quiet, just so he knew was in charge of this little mission. I tilted my head to one side, listening to hear where the noises were coming from and it was then I realised he was in full vamp face. He bent down to my ear. 

"Double doors," He whispered, "In front of us," 

It was then I realised how different his voice is when he's vamped. Throatier, like he takes the words from deep down in his chest. The words are slicker, fiercer then his normal brash English tones. Taking a breath I stepped forward, felt the door and then decided to take Spike's approach. 

The door swung open with my first kick and I ran into the room, Spike immediately behind me, ready to fight. 

Empty. 

Huh. 

It was a bedroom. A four poster bed on the right in the middle of the wall, a dressing table opposite with closets on either side and a bedside table on our right. 

"The window," Spike growled and cocked his head to the curtains flapping in the wind on the opposite wall from us, white sheets billowing like ghosts in the wind, the heavy rain spitting inside onto the pale bed and staining the sheer silken bed sheets. Launching myself over the bed I grabbed the window sill, just stopping myself from toppling over. The rain began it's assault on my face and I blinked several times, brushing hair out of my face with my free hand as I searched the below for any shapes running away from the house. 

I hadn't realised just how tall that staircase was. Even I'd have a problem running away unscathed from a drop like that. Behind me I heard drawers opening and closing. Typical Spike, we're on patrol and he's looking for stuff to nick. Talk about your priorities. 

Okay looking back now it was probably stupid. I was just asking for it. But I had to lean over just a bit further, try and see if I could make out any shapes moving about in the rose bushes and vines that trailed over the ground, whirling about in the rain like poisonous and dangerous snakes, slithering over the brick wall. But I'm the Slayer, I couldn't just let vampires get away and they had to have gone somewhere. I heard something, I didn't just imagine it. And this place definitely didn't feel right. 

I felt a hand on my shoulder, "It's okay Spike I've got a grip," I assured him. 

The force on my shoulder didn't let off, "I told you Spike I'm fine, I'm just trying to see if our friends took the big leap," 

"What?" I heard his cockney tones, but they weren't as close as I expected them to be. It was like he was still across the other side of the room. I didn't know Spike could throw his voice. 

"Spike what are you - ahhh!" 

The grip on my shoulder became icy and I felt my body being flung like a rag doll over the window sill. 

"Buffy?!" 

I could only just hear his voice over the cacophony of winds which screeched in my ear like a banshee. My fingers gripped the window tighter, the bone shining white through the sheer force of the grip. I felt my body being battered and thrown against the wall, time and time again. Felt the bile rise in my throat as I thought of the sheer drop below me and the nest of thorns and roses and hard ground that would be my safety cushion if I let go and Spike didn't get his ass over here soon. 

"Buffy!" I looked up, blinking furiously through rain which felt like spiked daggers in my eyes and saw the blurry shape of Spike, his white blonde hair being slicked down onto his face, saw his lips move as he swallowed the rain and felt his hands clasp over mine. 

"It's alright I got you," 

Yeah that's okay for you to say, you're not the one hanging over the side of a building. Idiot. 

But then I did an even stupider thing. I looked down. 

Oh God I hate heights. 

I guess falling off scaffolding to your death will do that to you. 

Spike must have seen the look on my face as he reached over, trying to get a grip further down my arm. 

"Don't look down!" I heard him shout. 

No shit Sherlock. 

The clouds were growing darker as the winds around us grew fiercer. The storm swirled around us, buffeting our bodies. His left hand held onto my left wrist, the grip tight and bruising, whilst he bent down over me and attempted to hook his right hand under my right armpit. But both our skin was slick and slid when it touched as he attempted to hold on. I could feel the goose bumps break out on my skin as the cool air hit against me and I struggled to try and put my feet on the crumbling red brick wall, but my trainers were soaked and I couldn't get any friction. I felt something bang against my nose, cool and metallic as he still scrambled to get a grip on my right side. It was some kind of chain around Spike's neck. At that precise moment I heard him give a grunt and grab hold of my tee shirt, felt my left side full away momentarily until he gripped me under my left armpit as he had on the right. I saw the muscles in his face twitch as he heaved me up and over the window sill, my legs still being thrown against the brick. 

We landed in a mass of limbs and salty rain on the other side, the curtains still flailing frenetically above us. I breathed heavily, thankful that I didn't have the wind to fight against and leant back against Spike, one of his hands still draped around my waist. 

I looked outside again. The cumulus clouds had become even darker and rolled inland with a passion both awesome and terrifying. They'd become almost black or perhaps a greenish gray. The wind was much stiffer and stronger now and I could see the lightning off in the distance. I wondered how much more severe it would become. I wondered what would have happened if I'd lost my grip. Or if Spike had let go. I knew certainly he'd never do that but the fear was still just as deep. 

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered behind me, "Next time you decide to go kamikaze at least give me a little bit of warning Slayer," 

Suddenly a loud thud gave out behind us. We both turned. The door had slammed shut. 

Another thud and something swiped at us. 

The windows in front of us had closed and the lock slid shut with a jitter, holding them in place whilst the curtains died like withered flags either side. 

"Uh oh," I said looking at Spike, his eyes wide and suspicious like my own, "This can't be good." 

* * * * * 


	2. Chapter 2

Place Your Web Page Title Here

**Reality is Overrated**

**Part 2**

Disclaimer : (Because I forgot first time round) All is Joss. 

***** 

We both scrambled to our feet and raced to the door. But even our combined strength couldn't budge it. Kick after kick, punch after punch. And one attempt by Spike to launch himself off the bed and into it head first (Okay so it was pretty funny) and the damn thing was still in place. 

"Well isn't this just great," Spike mumbled, rubbing his head and the big red shiner now appearing by his right temple. 

"If I just had some light, maybe I could get to the lock," I told him through gritted teeth, still pushing and pulling at the metallic door knob. As I uttered the words the room became bathed in a hazy glow and I looked up to see a chandelier shining like, well, something very pretty above our heads. 

Spike cocked an eyebrow, looked at me, back up at the chandelier and the around the room, "And I wish that Britney Spears was on the bed ready to shag my brains out," 

Luckily the silk sheets remained bare. I rolled my eyes and hit a disappointed Spike on the back of head, "You're disgusting," 

"Yup," He said grinning, sticking a pink tongue out and catching it between his pearly white teeth, "And you're stuck in a room with me," 

"Don't remind me," I said. 

Dropping his hand from his head Spike walked around the room, inspecting the mirror with the expensive wooden frame. Looking at the Monets and other impressionists on the wall then lifting up the hem of the rich silk embroidered sheets on the grand bed and seeing if there's anything underneath. The drawers and cupboards were filled with clothes and objects which were covered in thick dust, mirrors and hairbrushes and other objects we couldn't make out. It had been a while since anyone had cleaned up around here. And I thought Dawn's room was bad. 

"Well," He said, giving a sigh, "It's been what, ten minutes already and we're not dead," 

"It's got to be a ghost," I told him, "Some kind of evil spirit or something," 

"How do you know that?" He asked sceptically. 

"Look around," I said frowning, what else could it be? "Loud winds, a storm, things going bump, doors shutting of their own accord. It's got to be a ghost," 

"And you learnt that from Giles right? And your studies?" 

Bastard. He knows I hate learning about that stuff about as much as he does. We're both more of "Learn from experience" people aka lazy asses who hate reading boring Watcher journals. 

"Well no," I admitted, then more quietly, "The Poltergeist movies," 

"My point exactly," He said smugly, "Could be anything and we haven't got a bloody clue. Some invisible bloke, some really fast moving demon, anything," 

"I couldn't really care less about what it is Spike, I just want to get out of here," 

"Well let's say it is a ghost, ever come up against one before in your little Scooby adventures?" 

Then I clicked. "Yes!" A bit louder and giddier then I'd anticipated, but it was only Spike, "Back when I was in highschool this boy from the sixties who shot his girlfriend was haunting the school. Possessing people and re-enacting the murder," 

"Nice," He said, pulling a face, "So how'd you get rid of it?" 

I shook my head, "It was some kind of spell, and we don't have any of the ingredients or knowledge so you can pretty much count that out," 

"Great, just bloody great. Why couldn't I get stuck in here with Red?" He said and began pacing the room, reminding me of tigers in zoos which stalked up and down their pens all day long. 

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Likewise William, likewise," 

He turned and looked at me, "This plonker can hear us right?" 

"He must have," I pointed at the chandelier. 

"Right then," He gave a smirk and ran his tongue along his teeth, "You listen to me you fuck brained nancy boy little------" 

I kind of stopped listening after that because in all my life I can pretty much say I've never heard those words and never want to hear them again. What the hell was I thinking letting my little sister hang around him? I wondered where she was picking all those strange words up from...... 

"-------And if you don't let us the fuck out of here right now you little dick shit I'm gonna fuck up this place so bad you'd better hope you *are* a sick sadistic little ghost and already dead," With that he picked up one of the pictures from the wall and got ready to hurl it at the mirror. 

Nothing. Zilch. Nadda. Diddley. 

"Right that's it," Spike vamped and got ready to throw the picture at the mirror whilst I went to the little desk at the side not wanting to miss out the fun. 

__

__"Spike, wait," He lowered the picture and looked at me quizzically. I pointed to the mirror. 

There scrawled in what I could make out as steam were four words. 

_~Please don't do that._~ 

Spike raised an eyebrow and put the picture down on the bed. 

I licked my lips and looked at him. "Let us out of here," I said in the most commanding Slayer voice I could find. 

_~Please make yourselves comfortable._~ 

Was the next message, appearing over the first. 

"I'll make you comfortable you little dickhead," Muttered Spike. 

I tried a new approach. "Why won't you let us out?" 

_~I mean you no harm.~_

__

__"Yeah well we mean you lots of it mate," Growled a newly vamped Spike. Typical guy, I thought, always has to settle things with violence. Can't be civilised. 

_~But,~_

__

__My heart fluttered and I watched as one line replaced another on the silky surface of the mirror. 

_~If you attempt to damage anything_~ 

_~If you insult me~_

__

_~Or if you attempt to leave~_

__

_~I will not hesitate to inflict punishment.~_

__

__My voice became dry. "How-" I swallowed, "How long do you intend on keeping us here?" I asked. 

There was a pause for a second and I felt Spike stand behind me. 

_Forever._

__

__I froze. 

_Please make yourselves at home._

__

I shook my head, "Nuh uh, No deal. We do have lives you know," I looked at Spike, "Well *I* have a life, I have to get home, you can't just keep us here. Can you?" 

Spike moved back a few paces behind me and gave a twisted chuckle. "Yeah, too bloody right I'll make myself at home," With that he lifted the abandoned picture and hurled it at the mirror. The glass didn't even splinter but the picture shattered into a thousand pieces and a gut wrenching scream filled the air. I clamped my hands over my ears untill I was certain it had faded. 

Spike gave a laugh. "Is that it?!" He asked at the mirror, "That's your punishment?" He sniggered, "Well consider me well and truly scolded," He snorted, "Pillock," 

"Spike," I didn't realise how faint my voice could get. 

He turned around to me and I was surprised he'd heard me. *I* nearly hadn't heard me, "What?" 

"Your neck, what's that around your neck?" 

His hands shot up to grasp his throat which was now covered with a thick coarse bit of a brown which from here resembled a snake, his eyes widened, "Bloody hell," He choked out before he was wrenched to the ceiling. 

"Shit!" 

His legs flailed about as he hung suspended from a noose that had suddenly appeared in the ceiling. I ran over to push him up by his legs, getting kicked a few times for my trouble, but I was too small to do much. 

"What the hell you waiting for Slayer, a camera?" He got out in a strained voice, "Get me down already!" 

The little veins in his neck were standing out and his eyes bulged, he looked petrified. 

"Oh calm down you big baby," I remarked and began rooting through the drawers for something sharp, "It's not like you can choke or anything, you don't breathe," 

I heard him cough and splutter behind me, he seemed to be getting more frantic with each second. I racked my memory for a time I'd ever seen Spike like this. 

"Look," I said slowly, puzzled at his reaction, "Just calm down, I'll get you down just give me a minute," 

He was scared. Completely scared, I saw him grit his teeth and stare up at the ceiling. Suddenly my task seemed more urgent and I opened more and more drawers. Finally I found one which contained what looked like a drawing set, with a pen knife for cutting charcoal inside. 

"Bingo," I said and turned. 

His voice was sarcastic and low from the noose but lacked any of it's normal energy, "Bout bloody-" 

He trailed off and stared past my shoulder, I frowned, "What now?" 

"Behind you!" He choked. 

I turned, there was nothing there. 

He began writhing again, hands clawing at the noose, "Spike what?" I said, growing frustrated, "There's nothing there!" I practically screeched. 

He wasn't listening, instead he was trying to turn his head wide eyed around the room, trailing something I couldn't see. I knew the noose wouldn't kill him but still he looked bad. Pale - even for him, eyes bloodshot. And every now and then he angled his body in strange directions as if avoiding something and grimaced in pain like he'd been hit. I didn't know what the hell was going on but the solution seemed to be to get him down fast. 

If a piece of rope to strangle Spike could appear from nowhere then maybe something else was going on that I couldn't see. 

The chair squealed as I dragged it to his side and jumped up and reached for the rope, cursing my height for about the thousandth time in my life. There wasn't a chance in hell I was gonna reach it. Unless- 

"Spike!" 

His blondeness ignored me, reddy eyes preferring to dart around the room. Great, I thought, wobbling on a chair in a haunted house with my clammy white vest top sticking to my skin (I just hoped my nipples didn't show) and a manic vampire with a noose complex. 

Have I ever told you how much I hate rainstorms? 

His jaw clenched as he continued to thrash and it took all my strength and balance to grab him and hold him still whilst still staying on the chair. Wow, I should have become an acrobat. 

"Spike!" He glared at me like I was the one who hung him from the ceiling, his nostrils flaring. By now I could see where the noose had begin to cut into his throat and see the tendrils of blood spreading down his skin and soaking into the white wife beater to merge with rain water. The veins and ligaments all over his throat jutted out, stretching the skin beyond its limit. The noose might not kill Spike but it looked like it hurt like a bitch and he could still snap his throat or something. All I knew is I really didn't want to find out if he could still survive with a snapped neck. 

He tried to wriggle out of my hands which held him steady by his rain slicked arms, the muscles tense beneath my grip, "Look just stop that already, this is not going to kill you okay?" His eyes glittered darkly and I saw him suck his bottom lip in, "Okay?" I repeated, confident that he was listening I carried on slowly, "I don't know what's going on but whatever you're seeing it's not really there, I can't see it so it can't do you any harm but if you carry on to thrash about like a fish out of water then that noose is," 

He seemed to be listening because he stopped trying to move and the muscles under my hands partially relaxed, but his eyes were still narrowed and I could imagine all the abuse he was hurling at me in his mind, "Right," I said taking a breath, "Now I need to cut you down but I can't reach," He rolled his eyes but I ignored it, "I'm going to need to climb up you to get at the rope, but I need you to support me," The muscles in the side of his cheeks bunched, sharpening the effect of his cheekbones before he raised his eyebrows in a look I read as, _"Whatever but just get a bloody move on." _

__

__I glanced up at the rope, then back at his eyes, "Here goes nothing," 

Probably not the best thing to say to a panicked vampire but it was worth it for the look of alarm in his eyes before I heaved myself onto his body, holding onto the top of his shoulders before he promptly grabbed my back by the scruff of my t-shirt and then my ass to push me up so I could get a hold of the rope and not weigh him down anymore. It took all the upper body strength I possessed to pull up the rope enough to hook an elbow round so that I was in a position to begin cutting, Spike's fingers biting into my ass as he held me up the whole time. 

Okay, surely he doesn't need to squeeze *that* hard. And I was fully aware that my chest was probably exactly at level with his eyes. Well, maybe it'd calm him down a bit. Or not. But at least distract from the noose. 

I'd planned on only cutting through just enough so that I could get back onto the chair and then the force of Spike's weight would break it, but I misjudged the last thread and with a deafening crack we both landed on the floor in a heap together again. 

When I'd pulled myself up to a sitting position I glanced at Spike to see him rubbing at his neck and muttering obscenities under his breath. He seemed to be looking at his skin too, searching for marks that weren't there. Noose nowhere to be seen. 

I shuffled over and put a hand on his shoulder when I realised he was still shaking, "You okay?" He immediately shrugged out of my grip, a firm scowl on his face. 

"Bloody fine Slayer," He mumbled getting to his feet. Of course it would have been more believeable if he wasn't still trembling. 

I shook my head and got up too, pulling a face,"Oh no don't worry Buffy," I said attempting an English accent to mock him, "I'm fine, thanks from cutting me down from that rope where I was in the middle of having a nervous sodding breakdown," 

"Yeah?" He cocked his head to the side, "I'd like to see how you cope with getting hung and people throwing shit at you Slayer, then we'll see who has the nervous breakdown," He said in a hoarse voice, "What the hell was that anyway?" 

I regarded him for a second. He'd been completely petrified. I knew that and it had unnerved me. And he was still keeping something from me. But I decided to let it go, if he was going to be such a prick I really couldn't care. It wasn't like the noose would have killed him, but that still didn't explain why......oh to hell with it. There was more important things to worry about, like getting out of here. 

"I'm not sure exactly. But going by gut instinct I'd say ghost definitely," I raised an eyebrow at him and he snorted. 

"Bleeding hell you win Slayer, okay it's a sodding ghost," 

"I think it's just your standard haunted house. When we dealed with the poltergeist before it didn't have any powers outside the school, should be the same here. We just need to get out," 

"You only just figured that out? Stupid bloody house, now I remember why I live in a crypt," 

_Please don't call me that._

Words appeared in the mirror again. 

Spike cocked an eyebrow, "Don't like being called a house eh? Well I've got some more names we could try," He leered with a sinister scowl on his face. 

"And can you remember where that great plan of yours got us last time?" I said incredulous. I swear that men, even vampire men, have the memory spans of goldfish. He gave a snort. 

I looked at the mirror, "Well what do you want us to call you?" 

_~I have a name.~_

__

_~Maria. ~_

__

__"A bloody woman," Muttered Spike, "I should have guessed," 

Ignoring the blatant sexism (I've ignored a lot more from Spike - massacres and killing anyone?? So it came easily) I decided to try a new approach. 

"Hi Maria," 

Spike looked at me like I'd grown two heads. 

"Maria, Spike didn't mean any harm-" 

"Yes I did," He said quickly and I glared. 

"-We just really need to go home," 

_~Why?_~ 

"Why? Well I have a sister to look after and I've got College and a life that needs my attention and Spike-" 

I looked over at the bleached vampire who was sitting on the bed looking non plussed, his hand still massaging his neck. 

"-umm, Spike has things to do," I searched my mind, "-Passions to watch," I finally came up with, "And blood to drink," 

"Hey!" He shot indignantly, "There's more to my life then blood and telly," 

"Oh yeah like what?" 

He looked stumped, and chewed a pale lip. 

I gave him a pointed look and turned back to the mirror, "So you see Maria why we need to go home," 

_~I had a sister once.~_

__

_~But she died.~_

__

__"I'm sorry,"__

__

"My heart bleeds," Was spike's unsympathetic injection to this conversation straight out of the Twilight Zone. Can't he shut up for more than two seconds? I bit my lip to stop myself from throttling him. 

_~So you are safer here.~_

__

_~Please make yourselves at home._~ 

And then any steam disappeared from the mirror and my instincts told me Maria had gone, I tried calling her name a few times anyway but nothing happened. Great plan Buffy, make nice to the ghost and what do you get for your trouble? Stuck in a house with a post-noose bad tempered Spike, soaked through and with little hopes of excape. 

I knew I should have just used the treadmill. 

***** 


	3. Chapter 3

Place Your Web Page Title Here

**Reality is Overrated.**

Author : Caitlin 

Rating : NC-17 in later parts 

Characters : Buffy/Spike 

Setting : Post-Post-The Gift. Buffy's back, all is right in the world, etc. 

Feedback : To Caitlin@teenagewildlife.com if you like it. Trying something new after not writing it ages. So feedback would be appreciated Thanks :) 

* * * * * 

"Moans to Rocky," 

Sounded easy enough. At the top of my crumpled bit of paper with the daisies I'd doodled in each corner and the stars lining the sides I wrote MOANS and at the bottom, ROCKY. Then I tried to fit things together. 

MOANS 

LOANS 

LOINS 

LOONS 

BOONS 

BOOKS 

ROOKS 

ROCKS 

ROCKY 

It took only a few moments. 

"How many?" Drawled Spike. 

"Nine," 

He smirked, "Seven," 

He turned round his own bit of paper, sans doodles, with his scruffy scrawl in the centre, sharp and stretched where my own handwriting seemed bouncier. 

MOANS 

LOANS 

LOONS 

LOOKS 

ROOKS 

ROCKS 

ROCKY 

"Okay, okay," I put my hands up in mock defence, "You win. Again," 

The bed creaked as he leaned over onto his back, hands under his head and stared at the ceiling. We'd been playing word games and sparring on and off for the past few hours. The latest one was a game Spike and Angel, when he was soulless obviously, had apparently used to play on cargo ships between countries when they had to travel in storage to avoid the light. I got the feeling that Angelus had won a lot because Spike really loved to rub it in when he won. Which was a lot. So far I'd contemplated staking him with the pencil in my hand, oh about a million times. Especially when he started doing that idiotic thing where he stretches out after a win, clasping his hands and flexing his muscles saying stuff like "Oh I'm good, I'm bloody amazing." Can you say loves to brag? 

I'd thought about rising the hanging incident again because I was curious as to why Spike freaked, but it didn't seem like the right time. He wasn't jittery anymore and I didn't want him to be again. It's too weird; Spike + jitters = A freaked Buffy. 

Spike had rifled through every drawer and cupboard - Along with the drawing kit I found earlier there were cosmetic things - hairbrushes and perfume bottles, hand held mirrors and scissors as well as clothes which were definitely not the latest Gap fashion. Spike mumbled something about them being from the early nineteen hundred so I took his word. 

Took Spike, William the Bloody's word. 

Sorry, just struck me as funny. 

Okay so what have we got? An abandoned house with stuff in it from early in the last century - not overly weird on the Sunnydale scale. But the weirdest thing about it is that all the stuff looked to be in good condition, whereas when we'd looked in the dark everything had been moth eaten and had dust bunny envy. Everything looked, as Spike had put it, "Brand Spanking New." And I had to admit if a Spike wasn't here then I would definitely be trying on those silk dresses which were mint condition. I'd have to ask the Ghost what her secret was, my cute baby blue cardigan which I only bought a month ago has already started to bobble. As of yet, Maria hadn't made a return. 

"So," Spike sniffed in that weird way of his where he sucks his jaws in at the same time. I think I've seen dogs do that, "What now?" 

I shrugged and leant forward propping myself up with my elbows, "I dunno. Just not more games okay?" 

He chuckled, "What's wrong Slayer, defeat getting to you?" 

"No boredom," I corrected, "This kind of thing loses it's appeal after the first *hundred* times," 

"S'better then your suggestion," He grunted, beginning to pluck at the tassels at the end of the silk sheets. 

"I'll have you know that eye spy is a great game," He looked at me, "For six years olds, " I finished meekly to Spike's low grumble of a chuckle. 

Low grumble? What the hell has happened to me? Spike's laugh used to be annoying, sharp and like somebody had scraped their fingernails down a black board. It's not that I don't like him, I don't know what I would have done without him the last few months, but nothing more. Maybe, maybe I'm getting appreciation mixed up with something else. 

Okay I admit it, I like being with him. We're good for eachother but I'm not the type of girl who needs a boyfriend to make herself feel whole. 

I'm just tired of being alone. 

Hang on wait did I say that? 

Hmmm. Must be the house. 

"-Earth to Slayer?" 

"Huh?" Oh damn, how long was I out of it for? 

"I said you wanna try and get some sleep, looking a bit worse for wear pet," 

"Thanks," I said wryly and he gave me a thin smile, but the concern in his eyes was so endearing I let it go. 

He shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed (If vamps could blush..) "I mean no offence- I mean you still look bloody gorgeous as well," (More hypothetical blushing, ahh bless) "-But you know- Well what I was saying was-" 

"Spike-" Had to cut him off, not that the rambling wasn't cute, but enough's enough, "Don't worry about it. I don't think I'm gonna go to sleep though, Maria's got to come back eventually and I want to be here when she does," At that precise moment my stomach protested it's emptiness with a growl to rival Spike's own. It was my turn to blush but Spike just grinned, "Of course I wouldn't say no to some food," 

Hey presto and the door is swinging open. Spike scowled at me, top lip curving, "How come it always works for you?" He said then tilted his head to the side, "Oh I get it, we've got a bloody dyke for a host 'aven't we? Well that's just grand, all my manly charms are now useless," 

"When were they ever *useful*? No hang on what manly charms?" I asked with a raise of my eyebrows, making my way to the door. 

He smirked, "Just face it Slayer, I'm irresistible to the opposite sex, they can't keep their hands off me," 

"Oh yeah," I agreed sarcastically, "You're a regular babe magnet," 

He gave a snort, "S'not like the blokes are hanging off your arms lately Slayer," 

Ouch. Defensive much? I was kidding. 

"What would you know?" My ice lined comeback which somehow just made me sound teenagery. 

"Look let's not argue, let's just see what the dyke's got in store downstairs, see if we can find a way out," 

"Fine," I said sulkily following him out the door. How come he gets to be the mature one? That should be me. 

Oh yeah gotta be the house. 

Okay now that was definitely not here before. 

The hallways were covered in candles and were painted a deep dark red - looking antique and expensive. Spike looked at me and I shrugged, "Maybe she likes to decorate?" 

"Yeah," Spike said, "A regular Laurence Llewelyn Bowen," 

I frowned, who with that what with the where? 

He shook his head, "Nevermind," He muttered. 

Fine I won't. Buffy couldn't possibly understand. Just because I don't spend half my life, sorry un-life, in front of the television doesn't mean you have to patronise me. I could stake your ass buster. 

Oh darn I meant to say that out loud and now the moment has passed. Dammit. 

Following Spike down the stairs I suddenly had an urge just to push him, Spike sprawling head first. Oh God, it's too much. 

"Do you always just start giggling like a school girl for no particular bloody reason?" He turned and asked, eyebrows low. 

"What can I say?" I told him, "Your face is just a walking joke to me," 

He pulled a face then turned again, "Must be that time of the month. Great a PMT Slayer, just what I don't need," 

I shook my head in disgust, "Just because someone doesn't like you Spike doesn't mean it's automatically - wow....." 

Okay scrap she likes to decorate, this ghost is the DIY queen. Maybe she could come have a look at my room. I'm really still not happy with the paint job. Better still she should go to Spike's place, she'd probably drop dead at - no wait already a check on that account. 

On our right is some kind of living area and on the left a dining area. Fit for a queen let me tell you. We're talking candles, silver dishes, gold frames, glassware, velvet couches, velvet curtains, hell everything's just velvet. Got to admit the girl's got taste and wow is that a real Faberge? 

What? So sue me my mother was into art. 

Well it's not. Just for the record, Spike said early nineteen hundred so it's after her time. 

So what do I know about this ghost so far. Name's Maria. Doesn't like to be disobeyed. She's a dominating kind of gal. Like's rope and pushing unsuspecting persons over window edges. Lost a sister. Likes to decorate. Well then I just start mixing oranges with browns and I'm sure she'll let us right out. Not. 

What is that? Spikes in the dining room and is lifting up the silver platters one by one. Spike with the touching. He can't just look, always gotta touch. Never picked him as a touchy-feely kind of guy. No hang on, incident with troll coming shining back to me. 

Oh double wow. Next time I am asking for a Porsche 911. Underneath the dishes was, and it seems I was right the first time, a banquet fit for the queen. Chicken, vegetables, hours d'ouevres and a bazillion other things I've never seen before but sure look and smell yummy. 

Right then time to dig in. Spike sat sulkily across from me at the table as I pretty much ate like a pig. 

"You'd a think she could have cooked me up some blood whilst she was at. Stupid bitch fancies you, that's what it is, wants to starve old Spike so she can have you to herself," 

"Well," I said through mouthfuls of some chicken and a sauce as I reached for a glass of red wine, "If she carries on cooking like this you've got no protests from me," 

Gulp and Oh shit, mega shit. We're talking elephant shit here and yes I'm allowed to be crude because hello I just swallowed blood. I sprayed the liquid most ladylikely across the table, wiping furiously at my mouth. 

Spike raised an eyebrow, "Well someone can't hold their alcohol," He remarked. 

"Not," I gasped, "Alcohol," and I reached for the jug of water whilst thrusting the wine glass full of blood a him, "Blood," 

"Way-bloody-hey!" Spike exclaimed guzzling the liquid down eagerly and I wasn't sure what was weirder, red wine turning to blood in front of my eyes or Spike saying Way-bloody-hey. 

An hour or so later and I had pretty much cleared Maria out and had made the mental note to ask her the recipe for that chocolate creme brouille thingy. Spike had sampled just about every type of blood there was and I was surprised to discover from him that not all blood tastes the same. I'm type AB apparently that's the Chartreuse of the blood world - good stuff. I was momentarily flattered before I remembered - euww. 

"Hey Buffy you got a little something-" Spike was scrutinising my face from his position slumped in his chair and pointing at the side of his mouth. Oh shit, I found the culprit - a bit of chocolate sauce at the side of my lip and quickly wiped it away. I'd have been embarrassed if it wasn't for the fact that Spike had already lowered the tone with a blood moustache. He had it for five minutes before I couldn't stand it anymore and gave into fits of laughter. 

"Well then she's fed us, made the place up all nice, what's the deal?" Spike said, echoing my own thoughts. This is not typical ghost behaviour, usually they have more of a niche for killing you or scaring you shitless, not making you comfortable. Spike was still talking, " I mean I've heard the saying kill you with kindness but this is bloody ridiculous, we got ourselves the Martha sodding Stewart of the ghost world," 

"Maybe it's like that story," I suggested, "You know Hansel and Gretel? The witch feeds them up so that they're nice and plump and tasty," 

"Yeah," Spike said, "But I didn't think ghosts ate," 

I shook my head, "Maybe she needs us for something else then, I don't know," I sighed, "Well until we find out I say we lean back and enjoy it. I haven't had a meal like that since....." 

I trailed off. I was going to say since my mom was alive but it's still hard to say her name. Spike always gets it anyway and just nods. 

"So," He said patting his stomach, "What next? She gonna get the entertainment in or what? I'm still waiting for my Britney love," He called out as if to the ghost and I smiled. 

"I don't know about you but I could really use a nice warm bath," 

Oh I am too good. Running water sound coming from upstairs. Spike shook his head, "I was bloody right. I think our ghost's got the hots for you love," 

"What's wrong Spike?" I asked sweetly, "Upset that there's another person with resistance to your "manly charms"?' 

He gave a smirk, "Quite the contrary pet. I just figured a way to get us out of here. The way I see it - you get your kit off for her and we're out of here in no time," 

I raised an eyebrow, pushing back a smile, "And give you a free show? I don't think so buster," 

He snorted. 

"Okay here's the plan," I told the pouting Spike, "I'll go upstairs and investigate, and you know maybe have a bath or something," I said with a sigh just to piss Spike off who I knew was just as grubby as me, "You stay down here and have another look around. I'll give you a shout if I find anything," 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," He reached for a half empty glass of blood and began swirling the liquid around, "Shoulda known you'd get in the tub first," 

"You know what they say Spike, ladies first," 

He gave me a pointed look, "Since when were you a lady?" And for some reason I winked. 

Hello did you hear me? I winked at Spike. And enjoyed it. And I enjoyed the look he gave me even more, that little half smile he gets and the sparkle in his blue eyes. Makes me feel like anything's possible. 

Oh God, what did I just say? 

This damn house was doing something to me. We were in a possibly life threatening situation and all I could think about is how me and Spike are going to pass the time and the best way to piss him off. 

That's it. I'm finding a way out as soon as possible before I lose all my inhibitions. 

And do something I might regret. 

* * * * * 


End file.
